me: can I tell you something
about myself?
Josh: always
me: ok
I paid $1 for an application called Catculator
it is a calculator
that meows
Josh: ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
that is awesome and good and basically what smart phones are for so good job.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
May
Mayday: I had a lot of expectations for my date scheduled for the first of May; how could I not, coming off of The Month That Ate All Other Months? I had a nice time, but I asked the wrong questions and got very long answers. And when he asked me, 45 minutes into sharing a pot of tea, "so, tell me something about YOU," I couldn't think of anything I wanted to say. The sharing window had passed. He asked, was I doing anything after this, would I maybe like to go to the zoo, and I said perhaps some other time.*
*This is a pet peeve of mine: the afternoon beverage that could presumably turn into an invitation for an evening date. I have places to be, people. And even when I don't: I'm planning to go home and recover from the stress (good or bad) of this first date. It's booked. No fair springing a new invitation when I've pumped myself up enough only for the time we have planned. I'm going to say no whether I like you or not: why put me in that position at our first meeting?
There were some other beverages and chats that went nowhere productive, and I didn't mind so much because the calendar was still thick with activity. I wrote at the time: "I am getting choosier. I no longer feel the drive to date solely for the hell of it, to see what happens, and to 'get myself out of the house.' I've found a better balance of calling on my friends, and work has just been crazy with events. When I have free time, I like spending it on my own these days."
On my own I raided the annual friends of the public library booksale, scoring some sweet panoramic photos of Houston in the early 1980s. I tore through three seasons of Parks and Rec on Netflix. And I jinxed a horse at the Kentucky Derby. At work, I wore heels well into the evenings: guest lecturers and fundraisers and various spring networky type events.
By the end of the month I was seeing a lawyer with some regularity. And even in the thick of that, I felt sad. I knew we weren't communicating very well about feeeeelings and I thought that was probably ok because I wasn't really having any feelings anyway. I thought: keep it light, go through the process, etc. etc. I thought that maybe we would be able to talk and draw each other out of our shells, if and when it became necessary. And that's how I learned about The Disappearing Act.
*This is a pet peeve of mine: the afternoon beverage that could presumably turn into an invitation for an evening date. I have places to be, people. And even when I don't: I'm planning to go home and recover from the stress (good or bad) of this first date. It's booked. No fair springing a new invitation when I've pumped myself up enough only for the time we have planned. I'm going to say no whether I like you or not: why put me in that position at our first meeting?
There were some other beverages and chats that went nowhere productive, and I didn't mind so much because the calendar was still thick with activity. I wrote at the time: "I am getting choosier. I no longer feel the drive to date solely for the hell of it, to see what happens, and to 'get myself out of the house.' I've found a better balance of calling on my friends, and work has just been crazy with events. When I have free time, I like spending it on my own these days."
On my own I raided the annual friends of the public library booksale, scoring some sweet panoramic photos of Houston in the early 1980s. I tore through three seasons of Parks and Rec on Netflix. And I jinxed a horse at the Kentucky Derby. At work, I wore heels well into the evenings: guest lecturers and fundraisers and various spring networky type events.
By the end of the month I was seeing a lawyer with some regularity. And even in the thick of that, I felt sad. I knew we weren't communicating very well about feeeeelings and I thought that was probably ok because I wasn't really having any feelings anyway. I thought: keep it light, go through the process, etc. etc. I thought that maybe we would be able to talk and draw each other out of our shells, if and when it became necessary. And that's how I learned about The Disappearing Act.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
April
I spent a lot of time and energy convincing the world what a great trip/time/month I was having in April. Which is not to say that it wasn't genuinely amazing and well timed to finally visit California and see a bevy of beautiful ladyfriends and sing songs at the Pacific Ocean and jump out of big trees and to go on a bonafide hike (this was billed to me as a "walk" through Muir Woods and then we climbed approximately 10,000 stairs). I started to feel like myself again after having spent a long time away.
Who then was I trying so hard to impress with all my yakking and picture posting?
On April 1st I flew into Los Angeles where I stayed with Lana and Kevin. Having been talked out of the Drive The Coast Find Thyself option (9 hours, really? Without breaks?) I then hopped on a plane to San Francisco where I stayed with Caroline and later Andrea. We met up with my college roommate Mindy and went ziplining through redwood trees, an adventure I first read about on Mighty Girl (I will repeat her advice and say: you should do this!). With Caroline, I pledged to "put holes in the walls" and we made a five year plan. One that strives toward graduate school, and books, a potential relocation and focusing on family (existing and future).
When I got back to Houston there were more lady and boyfriends to visit; my calendar was bulging with Debi's visit and Raveonettes and Bunnies on the Bayou and some feel-good education events and bingo and I of course told everyone about it. If I was trying to impress the poet, it didn't work, and he missed the memo about being the end of my dating line. No matter, I thought. Life is wonderful and people are great and my job is fantastic and how much fun can one person have in a month--this seems disproportionately AWESOME and it won't last.
It didn't, of course, but then I didn't expect it to. Thanks to a surprise layover travel voucher and an invitation from the airline that set me up with fancy travel status for two years (O why can't every month be like you, April?), I knew there would be more "just for fun" travel in store, and I resolved to stop neglecting it as an ongoing part of my life.
Who then was I trying so hard to impress with all my yakking and picture posting?
On April 1st I flew into Los Angeles where I stayed with Lana and Kevin. Having been talked out of the Drive The Coast Find Thyself option (9 hours, really? Without breaks?) I then hopped on a plane to San Francisco where I stayed with Caroline and later Andrea. We met up with my college roommate Mindy and went ziplining through redwood trees, an adventure I first read about on Mighty Girl (I will repeat her advice and say: you should do this!). With Caroline, I pledged to "put holes in the walls" and we made a five year plan. One that strives toward graduate school, and books, a potential relocation and focusing on family (existing and future).
When I got back to Houston there were more lady and boyfriends to visit; my calendar was bulging with Debi's visit and Raveonettes and Bunnies on the Bayou and some feel-good education events and bingo and I of course told everyone about it. If I was trying to impress the poet, it didn't work, and he missed the memo about being the end of my dating line. No matter, I thought. Life is wonderful and people are great and my job is fantastic and how much fun can one person have in a month--this seems disproportionately AWESOME and it won't last.
It didn't, of course, but then I didn't expect it to. Thanks to a surprise layover travel voucher and an invitation from the airline that set me up with fancy travel status for two years (O why can't every month be like you, April?), I knew there would be more "just for fun" travel in store, and I resolved to stop neglecting it as an ongoing part of my life.
Monday, December 12, 2011
March
We pause for a note on memoir. I'm not telling you the whole story. What I'm shooting for, instead, is something close to but not exactly the true story. In the retelling, certain names and details may be omitted via author's privilege. That argument, that slip-up, that boy who didn't call, they don't fit the narrative. No matter. Years from now, I'll remember the retelling with more clarity than the parts that got cut from the page. Such is the power of memoir, how we shape our memories. What we include and what we leave out.
That said, some of this narrative gets uncomfortable.
In March I discovered okcupid and all Hell broke loose. I started seeing a therapist, by which I mean that I started dating a therapist, and we had--surprise--a lot of long talks about feelings. One of those talks, according to my phone log, lasted four and a half hours. When your phone shows an outgoing call at 1:21am for 36 minutes, and you don't remember the contents of that conversation, that's a scary thing. Worse are the alcohol soaked online chats with strangers that get recorded, like it or not, for your viewing pleasure the next morning (delete, delete).
Outside of that chaos, I saw some nice films about space under a big full moon, I went to a (mostly ineffective) rally to preserve Texas education funding, some of my worlds collided at an intimate house show with Owen, and I brought home a new Empty Bowl. I don't really remember what I was doing at work but I do remember accepting a couple big checks and going to an event where I was asked to talk on camera (surprise!), so I must have been showing up and earning my salary.
I had cut things off with the therapist and closed all the open loops except one: I agreed to meet up with an attractive poetry phD candidate for coffee and a reading the night before I left for CALIFORNIA. Just this one, I thought, and everything else goes on hold while I take a break and re-evaluate. The poet did not disappoint, and later we texted throughout my whole trip. This is it, I thought. This is what this whole process has been leading up to. I was meant to be a muse! And on April Fool's Day I woke up very early and practically floated onto a plane to Los Angeles.
That said, some of this narrative gets uncomfortable.
In March I discovered okcupid and all Hell broke loose. I started seeing a therapist, by which I mean that I started dating a therapist, and we had--surprise--a lot of long talks about feelings. One of those talks, according to my phone log, lasted four and a half hours. When your phone shows an outgoing call at 1:21am for 36 minutes, and you don't remember the contents of that conversation, that's a scary thing. Worse are the alcohol soaked online chats with strangers that get recorded, like it or not, for your viewing pleasure the next morning (delete, delete).
Outside of that chaos, I saw some nice films about space under a big full moon, I went to a (mostly ineffective) rally to preserve Texas education funding, some of my worlds collided at an intimate house show with Owen, and I brought home a new Empty Bowl. I don't really remember what I was doing at work but I do remember accepting a couple big checks and going to an event where I was asked to talk on camera (surprise!), so I must have been showing up and earning my salary.
I had cut things off with the therapist and closed all the open loops except one: I agreed to meet up with an attractive poetry phD candidate for coffee and a reading the night before I left for CALIFORNIA. Just this one, I thought, and everything else goes on hold while I take a break and re-evaluate. The poet did not disappoint, and later we texted throughout my whole trip. This is it, I thought. This is what this whole process has been leading up to. I was meant to be a muse! And on April Fool's Day I woke up very early and practically floated onto a plane to Los Angeles.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
February
In February I tried very hard to dance on my own, thankyouverymuch, but I kept getting thwarted. On the 11th, my entire office picked up and got on a plane to Washington DC for acronym's 20th Anniversary celebration. One of my favorite moments was waiting in the security line (what a strange way to begin a sentence) and all around me, seeing people that I knew. There were co-workers, of course, but also a few supporters -- some on their way to the summit; others there by coincidence. In general air travel has felt like a solitary activity for me, and I was glad for their company: glad to feel included, a part of something.
I spent Valentine's Day at a poetry reading with Major Jackson and Alicia Ostriker, and I cried when she read this poem about insomnia: But it's really fear you want to talk about. I planned to spend my birthday alone, but some friends intervened, put a bird on it, and fed me cake. I was glad that February was a short month, and happy to get away from memories and milestones that made me sad. Instead I looked forward to April, and the trip I had booked to CALIFORNIA. I imagined driving up Pacific Highway 1 in a rented convertible, hair streaming behind me as I Found Myself on a coast very far from here. CALIFORNIA (in caps), I knew, would Fix Everything.
Two competing truths made themselves very clear this month: 1) I had little left tying me to Houston, and great uncertainty about the road ahead; and 2) good people and good work surrounded me in abundance, both in the city and a phone call away, and it was up to me to reach out. Except I wasn't reaching out. In the words of Melanie, a first grade student, "Somebody can help you if you tell them. They can't help you if you do not tell them."
I spent Valentine's Day at a poetry reading with Major Jackson and Alicia Ostriker, and I cried when she read this poem about insomnia: But it's really fear you want to talk about. I planned to spend my birthday alone, but some friends intervened, put a bird on it, and fed me cake. I was glad that February was a short month, and happy to get away from memories and milestones that made me sad. Instead I looked forward to April, and the trip I had booked to CALIFORNIA. I imagined driving up Pacific Highway 1 in a rented convertible, hair streaming behind me as I Found Myself on a coast very far from here. CALIFORNIA (in caps), I knew, would Fix Everything.
Two competing truths made themselves very clear this month: 1) I had little left tying me to Houston, and great uncertainty about the road ahead; and 2) good people and good work surrounded me in abundance, both in the city and a phone call away, and it was up to me to reach out. Except I wasn't reaching out. In the words of Melanie, a first grade student, "Somebody can help you if you tell them. They can't help you if you do not tell them."
Saturday, December 10, 2011
January
My year started with a midnight kiss with a guy I'd been seeing for a couple weeks, some dancing and a lot of hipsters. Do you want to go to the Warpaint show on New Years Eve, he had asked. I don't know, was my response. It's a day fraught with symbolism. Maybe we shouldn't. Later I recanted: Ok, I will go to the Warpaint show with you on FRIDAY.
A few days later it was back to work after two weeks of mucking about, staying up too late, and trying to get comfortable with myself in a home that felt newly foreign to me. I did not handle the transition back well at all. Work felt like something to "get through" while my attention was elsewhere, saying yes to dates and stalking the arts calendars for things to get me out of the house. It was a cold January and that did not help things, dragging all the plants inside and clumsily wrapping the pipes. So I said yes instead to dinners and Aeros games and pie and films about Alan Ginsberg and painting with pinot and supersized Jenga and dark animations.
By the end of the month that boy I'd been seeing called me out for dating multiple people: It's ok, he said, I understand and I don't blame you; but I thought about it and I'm not really ok with it. "And then I realized that the idea of not seeing you didn't really bother me that much." I remember sitting and letting this statement sink in, and realizing that I felt the same way. Huh, I said. Yeah. And then probably: "I feel like a jerk."
January was a month of saying yes. Not always to the right things and not always for the right reasons, but I started saying it, and I said it over and over. Eventually I realized that I didn't need a date to go out and do the things I wanted to do, and by the time February hit I was dating no people.
A few days later it was back to work after two weeks of mucking about, staying up too late, and trying to get comfortable with myself in a home that felt newly foreign to me. I did not handle the transition back well at all. Work felt like something to "get through" while my attention was elsewhere, saying yes to dates and stalking the arts calendars for things to get me out of the house. It was a cold January and that did not help things, dragging all the plants inside and clumsily wrapping the pipes. So I said yes instead to dinners and Aeros games and pie and films about Alan Ginsberg and painting with pinot and supersized Jenga and dark animations.
By the end of the month that boy I'd been seeing called me out for dating multiple people: It's ok, he said, I understand and I don't blame you; but I thought about it and I'm not really ok with it. "And then I realized that the idea of not seeing you didn't really bother me that much." I remember sitting and letting this statement sink in, and realizing that I felt the same way. Huh, I said. Yeah. And then probably: "I feel like a jerk."
January was a month of saying yes. Not always to the right things and not always for the right reasons, but I started saying it, and I said it over and over. Eventually I realized that I didn't need a date to go out and do the things I wanted to do, and by the time February hit I was dating no people.
Friday, December 09, 2011
Annual Report to Stakeholders
Gentle readers,
It's been a quiet fourth quarter on this site, with lots happening on the homefront. Recently I have been reflecting on what an amazing year it has been -- one of the best in recent memory and possibly in the last decade. Like a Phoenix who rose from the ashes, set herself on fire, and rose again, 2011 was a defining year. In the coming days, I'd like to share a year in review with you. A lot of what happened was too fresh to write about at the time, but time and space has made it more dear to me, and I'd like to document that.
I hope your year was a banner year, too. And if not, remember that just like you can start your day over at any time, I think you can also start your year over. Like, from today. These things are circular, we might as well take advantage of them.
I hope you will continue to invest in Fruitcake at Rest (get it--we go from Fruitcake Redux to Fruitcake at Rest--Updike reference anyone?) and trust that your attention and time are well spent, and appreciated, and will be returned to you tenfold to the best of my ability even if its just a long overdue post saying hey, thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.
So, thank you.
Love,
Mary
It's been a quiet fourth quarter on this site, with lots happening on the homefront. Recently I have been reflecting on what an amazing year it has been -- one of the best in recent memory and possibly in the last decade. Like a Phoenix who rose from the ashes, set herself on fire, and rose again, 2011 was a defining year. In the coming days, I'd like to share a year in review with you. A lot of what happened was too fresh to write about at the time, but time and space has made it more dear to me, and I'd like to document that.
I hope your year was a banner year, too. And if not, remember that just like you can start your day over at any time, I think you can also start your year over. Like, from today. These things are circular, we might as well take advantage of them.
I hope you will continue to invest in Fruitcake at Rest (get it--we go from Fruitcake Redux to Fruitcake at Rest--Updike reference anyone?) and trust that your attention and time are well spent, and appreciated, and will be returned to you tenfold to the best of my ability even if its just a long overdue post saying hey, thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.
So, thank you.
Love,
Mary
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
I do not think it is a coincidence
that Continental upgrades me to Elite status and in that same year I develop an inexplicable urge to visit the West Coast more often.
Nosir.
Nosir.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Songs About Rain
I have a lot of songs about rain. Some rain would be nice.
I mean, nicer than everything being on fire...
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Messing with TX
Me: hey--are you there?
Brother: Yes, I'm here. What's up?
M: I have to share this with someone and it can't be anyone at work
I just had the first treatment to get my TX tattoo removed
and it HURTSSSSSSSSSS
J: Ouch
Did I even know you HAD a TX tattoo?
M: did you?
it was/is on my back
just an outline of the state of TX
J: I see
But you can't tell people at work, because they will find excuses to slap you on the back?
M: I dunno, it's embarrassing
J: To be removing a tattoo?
M: yes, and, to admit that I have one in the first place
J: Just tell them that you didn't want your back associated with Rick Perry.
M: ohhhhh YESSSSSSSSSS
I knew there was a reason I came to you
J: Tell them that your tattoo has decided to secede from your body
M: Bwwwaahhhhhhhhh
Brother: Yes, I'm here. What's up?
M: I have to share this with someone and it can't be anyone at work
I just had the first treatment to get my TX tattoo removed
and it HURTSSSSSSSSSS
J: Ouch
Did I even know you HAD a TX tattoo?
M: did you?
it was/is on my back
just an outline of the state of TX
J: I see
But you can't tell people at work, because they will find excuses to slap you on the back?
M: I dunno, it's embarrassing
J: To be removing a tattoo?
M: yes, and, to admit that I have one in the first place
J: Just tell them that you didn't want your back associated with Rick Perry.
M: ohhhhh YESSSSSSSSSS
I knew there was a reason I came to you
J: Tell them that your tattoo has decided to secede from your body
M: Bwwwaahhhhhhhhh
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Preventative Care
Houston FIT recommends "preventative sports massage."
YES!
An excuse to go get a massage before things get all achy: what a good idea.
The idea being that if you take care that all your joints are well-oiled and loose, you're less likely to get shin splints or later blow a knee out while training for your marathon or half-marathon or whatever.
There are other implications for this idea.
I've been writing elsewhere, privately (part of my preventative self-care regime, I suppose). I might come back here later.
That's all for tonight.
YES!
An excuse to go get a massage before things get all achy: what a good idea.
The idea being that if you take care that all your joints are well-oiled and loose, you're less likely to get shin splints or later blow a knee out while training for your marathon or half-marathon or whatever.
There are other implications for this idea.
I've been writing elsewhere, privately (part of my preventative self-care regime, I suppose). I might come back here later.
That's all for tonight.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Waiting for the Yap
I've had a difficult time sleeping lately.
This weekend, at least, I blame it on pre-vacation jitters and all the stuff that needs to get done to prepare for that: the work in various states of completion put to hibernation or delegated, the house cleaned, the bags packed, the cat cared for, a key exchanged, the music updated, a book purchased, the (6am) flight caught.
All the various forms of communication yapping at me, or not yapping, and me waiting for the yap.
This might be a good trip to go into airplane mode, and stay there.
(But... but... live-tweeting!!)
To shut it down, for a week, to stop listening to the din, to stop broadcasting, and be present instead to my family and myself in a new place and experience.
(You can take paper notes, and consolidate when you get back.)
I think when you check in to a place, you should really be there.
In 48 hours, I will be in Portland.
This weekend, at least, I blame it on pre-vacation jitters and all the stuff that needs to get done to prepare for that: the work in various states of completion put to hibernation or delegated, the house cleaned, the bags packed, the cat cared for, a key exchanged, the music updated, a book purchased, the (6am) flight caught.
All the various forms of communication yapping at me, or not yapping, and me waiting for the yap.
This might be a good trip to go into airplane mode, and stay there.
(But... but... live-tweeting!!)
To shut it down, for a week, to stop listening to the din, to stop broadcasting, and be present instead to my family and myself in a new place and experience.
(You can take paper notes, and consolidate when you get back.)
I think when you check in to a place, you should really be there.
In 48 hours, I will be in Portland.
Monday, May 16, 2011
CLEAN ALL THE THINGS
My, what a surprise pleasure April and May have turned out to be.
Between vacation, girlfriends, adventures, stuff to do, re-connecting with people I love, meeting new and interesting people, and taking care of the homestead, I'm giving 2011 a thumbs up.
Oh, we have had some lows.
Let's not gloss over the lows; the lows are defining. I have bruises on my knees. I cut my chin and bled all over the white sheets I never wanted. Who in their right mind purchases white sheets? Why would a person want that?
But for now: my house is clean, my work is valued, my bed and my eyes are open. The loops are open or closed or somewhere in-between. I am being honest; I am trusting the process, I am keeping it light.
We scrub the dirty residue of a week, or many weeks, or a year; whatever it is, we bleach it clean, we imagine a new tomorrow, we seek out that new life right around the corner, and try to be present and keen and real. If we fail (and we might fail) we imagine a map--the faint outline of a world map, and follow that, knowing that the outcomes will lead to more questions, and decisions, and possibilities.
Between vacation, girlfriends, adventures, stuff to do, re-connecting with people I love, meeting new and interesting people, and taking care of the homestead, I'm giving 2011 a thumbs up.
Oh, we have had some lows.
Let's not gloss over the lows; the lows are defining. I have bruises on my knees. I cut my chin and bled all over the white sheets I never wanted. Who in their right mind purchases white sheets? Why would a person want that?
But for now: my house is clean, my work is valued, my bed and my eyes are open. The loops are open or closed or somewhere in-between. I am being honest; I am trusting the process, I am keeping it light.
We scrub the dirty residue of a week, or many weeks, or a year; whatever it is, we bleach it clean, we imagine a new tomorrow, we seek out that new life right around the corner, and try to be present and keen and real. If we fail (and we might fail) we imagine a map--the faint outline of a world map, and follow that, knowing that the outcomes will lead to more questions, and decisions, and possibilities.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Update Your Blog, Mary
OK, here in this moment...
-we are listening to KTRU, in its last week on air
-we are making progress on action items from CALIFORNIA, the vacation that ate all other vacations
-we are practicing California Cool at work, all the while things threaten to implode and eat our 4 day weekends.
That's ok if they do. There will be other, self imposed, four day weekends.
WE HAVE A TRAVEL VOUCHER.
We travel soooooooooooo well. Thanks United (boooooo!)/Continental (I miss/love you).
What is with this month, that has allowed us to eat and drink and see (girl)friends in such luxurious abundance? We can only declare this month, possibly, the Best Month Ever. Pictures are on Facebook, and if you aren't a Facebook friend, perhaps they will be posed to flickr soon.
Or perhaps not.
Ziplining!
We love ziplining.
It is not so much about "Jump Off The Thing," although that is good advice, as it is about what our tour guide suggested: "I am afraid of heights, but I TRUST THE EQUIPMENT."
Trust the equipment.
Invest in the right tools.
More maps!
These are all life lessons we took from California, plus others.
Oh the others!
I can't tell you how much I enjoyed travelling for travelling's sake. In the future, I will invest my relatives in meeting me places, so we can explore together, and experience less stress.
And more journeys.
What is life, but for the journey?
Yours,
Mary
-we are listening to KTRU, in its last week on air
-we are making progress on action items from CALIFORNIA, the vacation that ate all other vacations
-we are practicing California Cool at work, all the while things threaten to implode and eat our 4 day weekends.
That's ok if they do. There will be other, self imposed, four day weekends.
WE HAVE A TRAVEL VOUCHER.
We travel soooooooooooo well. Thanks United (boooooo!)/Continental (I miss/love you).
What is with this month, that has allowed us to eat and drink and see (girl)friends in such luxurious abundance? We can only declare this month, possibly, the Best Month Ever. Pictures are on Facebook, and if you aren't a Facebook friend, perhaps they will be posed to flickr soon.
Or perhaps not.
Ziplining!
We love ziplining.
It is not so much about "Jump Off The Thing," although that is good advice, as it is about what our tour guide suggested: "I am afraid of heights, but I TRUST THE EQUIPMENT."
Trust the equipment.
Invest in the right tools.
More maps!
These are all life lessons we took from California, plus others.
Oh the others!
I can't tell you how much I enjoyed travelling for travelling's sake. In the future, I will invest my relatives in meeting me places, so we can explore together, and experience less stress.
And more journeys.
What is life, but for the journey?
Yours,
Mary
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